đ The UnderflowâLagos
đ 9:00 PM | Same Night
The Underflow felt smaller tonight.
Victories were supposed to stretch a roomâinflate it with the swagger of hope, the sweet arrogance of survival. But tonight's victory tasted metallic, like someone had hidden a razor inside the sugar.
Screens blinked with messages from early adopters celebrating the injunction. #WeAreTheRiver climbed trend lists. Bloggers buzzed. Even diaspora communities posted explainer threads about the Kudi River.
But inside the humming heat of the underground server hub, Maka, Bayo, and Layo stood in a tense triangle, staring at the documents they had prayed would save them.
"They'll appeal," Bayo said quietly. He didn't look up as the papers trembled in his hand. "My father builds traps that look like victories. He lets opponents celebrate just long enough to lose their footing."
The documents slipped and scattered like startled birds.
"Maka," Layo said gently, "this is still a huge win. Students are posting savings pools. Market women are showing off QR receipts. People are tasting life without middlemen."
"But trending hashtags don't stop extradition," Maka whispered.
Her fingers curled around the quartz bracelet on her wrist. Warm. Steady. Almost⌠alive. It had belonged to Alimotuâthe programmer-anthropologist who had mentored them. She once joked the stone reacted to truth and danger. Maka had laughed back then.
Tonight she wasn't laughing.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Three phones vibrated at once.
Same unknown number. Same message.
The river flows to the sea. We'll be waiting at the mouth.
Your move, revolutionaries. â C
The Underflow suddenly felt colder.
Chioma didn't taunt.
She signaled.
And this felt like a summons.
đ 11:00 PM
Footsteps groaned along the steel staircase. Amara Adebayo appeared at the baseâstill in her tailored suit, earrings still on. She hadn't gone home.
"They've filed INTERPOL notices," she said without greeting. "Charges: financial terrorism and international banking violations."
Maka's breath caught. "But that doesn'tâ"
"They don't need truth," Amara cut in. "Just the right paperwork and the right panic."
"We're not criminals," Bayo muttered.
"No," Amara said softly. "You're threats."
She stepped closer. "In Lagos, you're exposed. But in Geneva, under my foundation's diplomatic umbrella, you become whistleblowers. Activists. Innovators. The narrative shifts."
"We're not abandoning the movement," Bayo snapped.
"Leaving isn't abandoning," Amara replied. "It's repositioning."
Maka swallowed. "And if we stay?"
"You're arrested before sunrise."
Layo nodded slowly. "Then we move."
The bracelet warmed againâa quiet confirmation.
Forward.
đ Safe HouseâLagos
đ 3:00 AM
They packed in heavy silence.
Maka wrapped her first soldering iron in her mother's scarf. It still smelled like onions and lavender hair cream. Home, woven into cloth.
Bayo slid the Lagos Underground stylus into his passport sleeve. "This thing has survived more coups than half our politicians."
Layo folded the original manifesto sketchesâthe ones scribbled over midnight shawarma. "Hard to believe this started as an argument about whether we should even call it a 'river.'"
Before stepping out, Maka typed:
Going to make Nigeria proud. Don't believe everything on the news. I love you.
Her mother replied instantly:
Flow like water, nne.
Maka pressed the phone to her heart.
Flow like water.
Yes.
đ Murtala Mohammed International Airport
đ 4:30 AM
The terminal buzzed with expensive tension.
"Two watchers near the glass doors," Bayo murmured. "One pretending to read BusinessDay."
"The guy with the silver tie pin?" Layo asked. "Phoenix Group."
"They want us on that jet," Maka said. "Where they can control the narrative."
The bracelet warmedâanticipation, not warning.
Something was shifting.
đ Cointrin AirportâGeneva
đ 9:00 AM | Local Time
The air tasted of money and snow.
"Where are the hawkers?" Layo muttered. "Where's the shouting? The soul?"
"Hidden behind tax codes," Bayo said.
A corporate liaison approachedâformal, distant.
"Welcome. Chioma sends her regards."
No warmth. Just a velvet leash.
The bracelet turned coldâso cold it stung.
đ Phoenix Group HeadquartersâGeneva
đ 10:30 AM
The building looked like a cathedral masquerading as a companyâglass everywhere, architecture whispering. We see everything.
Chioma waited in a conference room designed to intimidate.
"You've won a skirmish," she said. "But the Adebayo appeal is underway. Analysts predict a ninety-two percent chance he wins."
A screen flickered behind her:
THE PHOENIXâKUDI CONSORTIUM
Merge with Phoenix infrastructure.
Maka and Bayo are positioned as "visionary faces."
Unlimited funding and full legal immunity
A golden collar disguised as wings.
"A generous offer," Bayo said.
"A necessary one," Chioma corrected. "Especially after yesterday's⌠plumbing issues."
Maka tensed. "You touched my parents' shop?"
"A minor leak," Chioma said. "Easily fixed. Consider it a sample of what we can preventâor encourage."
She turned to Bayo.
"And your mother's sanctuary? Not as secure as she thinks."
Fury surged through Maka like a rising tide.
This wasn't negotiation.
This was colonization.
đ Geneva Safe House
đ 1:00 PM
Amara pulled Bayo into a fierce, soul-cracking hug.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For what he became."
She turned to all three. "Phoenix doesn't want to stop Kudi River. They want to own it. Parade you as a controlled revolution."
Then she faced Layo.
"Your father is safe. I moved him to Kigali. Pension intact."
Layo's breath shuddered. Relief and grief tangled.
Bayo slumped onto a chair, rubbing the scar on his neck. Amara touched it gently.
"He gave you that when you were twelve. You tried to defend me."
Silence thickened the room.
Then the truth dropped.
"JAGAN HAS EYES" was Alimotu's warning. 'Jagan'âthe many-eyed watcher. Her name for Adewale when she realized he had compromised her research. She left clues wherever she could."
Maka's chest caved in.
"We should take the deal," Bayo whispered. "Phoenix can keep our families safe."
Layo recoiled. "Safe? They want to bottle the river and sell it."
Zara's voice echoed through Maka's memory:
Freedom and control often share the same DNA.
đ Swiss National Supercomputing Centre
đ˘ 7:30 PM
Breaking in required all three:
â Bayo's forged credentials
â Layo's improvised "vending machine meltdown"
â Maka's stylus sliding into a fiber port with surgical grace
Inside the data vault, they found it:
KUDI RIVER â Asset #1âPriority Acquisition
Projected Impact: Dominate emerging markets for 40+ years
"They don't want to stop us," Maka whispered. "They want to wear our skin."
The bracelet throbbed cold.
đ RooftopâGeneva
đ 11:00 PM
Chioma's hologram flickered before them.
Merge or be framed. Cooperate or vanish.
Thenâbreaking news.
ADEBAYO'S AJĂ PAY COLLAPSESâSYSTEMIC FRAUD EXPOSED
Maka's digital poison pill had detonated.
The king was bleeding.
But the group was fracturing.
"How do we know you didn't make another deal?" Bayo snapped at Layo.
Layo staggered. "I would neverâ"
"She's clean," Amara said. "I checked."
Silence hollowed the rooftop.
And Maka finally understood:
A river is no river once it accepts a dam.
đ Phoenix Group HQâGlobal Broadcast Room
đ 12:00 AM
While the others argued, Maka moved.
She accessed Phoenix's satellite uplink.
She uploaded everything:
â Kudi River's full protocol
â Ethics layer
â Safeguards
â Documentation
â Fork-ready kits
When her voice went live, it rippled across continents.
"You cannot bottle a river. You cannot own a people's future. The Kudi River is no longer ours. It is yours. Build your own currents. Let no one damn your freedom again."
The quartz bracelet flared warmâAlimotu's blessing.
Forks bloomed across the map:
Lagos, Nairobi, Accra, SĂŁo Paulo, Jakarta, Mumbai, Manila, JohannesburgâŚ
Social platforms exploded with:
#UncagedRiver
#OpenSourceRevolt
#KudiEverywhere
Sirens wailed outside.
Swiss Federal Police.
Acting on Phoenix's lies.
Not the truth.
Maka turned to her stunned partners, eyes blazing with a new world.
"Now," she said softly, "let's see them try to cage that."